


(keep your head up) nothing lasts forever

by TheMipstaz



Series: We Are Still Breathing [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anger, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fear of Rejection, M/M, Trust Issues, mentions of past canon, post 3b, rating mostly for swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 20:18:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1871055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMipstaz/pseuds/TheMipstaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Stiles loses his shit because damn it could Derek trust him for one fucking minute?</p>
            </blockquote>





	(keep your head up) nothing lasts forever

**Author's Note:**

> "To the ones who still believe in dreams: Chase them. Chase them until you’re out of breath. Then, keep running."
> 
> And then keep running. Oh God, just keep running.

“No, you know what? Fuck you!” Stiles shouted. “Fuck you and your fucking martyr complex!”

Derek said nothing, watching with an unreadable expression as Stiles continued to fist the front of his shirt. Derek’s changeling green eyes blinked calmly, never once bleeding to red.

“You don’t get to decide, Derek,” Stiles continued, hating himself just a little bit more for the way his voice wavered. But he had a reason, damn it, because how dare Derek pull this shit after all that they've been through together. “This is my life, not yours, and you don’t get to choose how I throw it away.”

Derek didn’t make a sound as Stiles slammed him against the wall again in his anger; it’s not like it particularly hurt. They were basically the same height now, Stiles might even have had an inch or two on him since he’d graduated with his Bachelor’s Degree in Criminology. Seeing that had been more important to Derek than the others would ever know. After all, Derek had been living day by day ever since Laura died, so to see his pack graduating had reminded him that maybe storms didn't last forever. Or whatever that fucking hipster quote was.

“Answer me, damn it,” Stiles snarled, the way he instinctively bared his teeth evidence of spending the last six years of his life surrounded by werewolves.

In a twisted way, it was amusing to Derek how the boy who ran with wolves was more animalistic than any of his betas, sharp and primitive. He was more loyal and impulsive and Goddamn infuriating. And that was the one Derek had fallen for, had chosen to spend the rest of his life with.

“I did what I thought was best,” replied Derek evenly, trying to forget how Stiles had looked after Derek had finally plucked up the courage to seal their lips together with a kiss. Stiles’ cheeks had been flushed, lips kiss-bruised and shining in the half light, and his eyes had been dark with hunger. It was a good look on him, Derek had decided as he dragged his blunt teeth softly over Stiles’ neck to elicit a wanton moan.

Now, Derek’s tranquil control never wavered in the face of Stiles’ incandescent fury.

“Well you thought fucking wrong,” snapped Stiles. “Have our last four years taught you nothing? God, Derek, we’re fucked up and broken and fucking lost. We’ve fucking killed people.” And here Stiles began to laugh, hysterical and feverish and still so torn up about the fact that he’d ended lives before he’d graduated college.

And Derek couldn’t help the twinge of guilt that began to pulse in his gut for bringing Stiles into this life, for forcing his hand, for allowing him to be possessed. But while his stomach churned with self-hatred and disgust at what he’d done, another part of Derek was sickeningly pleased to have Stiles in his life despite everything that had gone wrong. Because with no more family to tie him down, Stiles was the only thing anchoring him—both in the werewolf sense and psychological one. Or perhaps those were one in the same.

“That kind of shit leaves an impression, and damn if we aren’t scarred. There is so much crap wrong with us, but you know why we didn’t go batshit insane? Why we survived your creepy-as-fuck uncle, Jackson’s scaly ass, Deucalion and his merry band of thieves, and a fucking thousand year-old evil fox spirit? Because we had each other and we had the pack to rely on. And yeah, we were lucky as hell, but we definitely didn’t make it this far by going behind each other’s backs and doing shit like this.”

“You’re tired,” Derek said quietly after a few moments of Stiles trying to catch his breath after the long winded rant.

“Yes, I am fucking tired,” Stiles agreed solemnly.

And Derek’s breath hitched at that, at how dangerously that sounded like “Good-bye,” like a confession of “I want out.” He was grateful Stiles wasn’t able to hear his ratcheting heartbeat. _Small mercies_ , he reminded himself.

“But not of you,” Stiles murmured. Somehow his fiery ire had dissolved into sheer exhaustion, and his hands loosened from Derek’s shirt to drop by his sides. Until the day he died, Derek would deny the way his racing heart relaxed as the fear of rejection passed. “Never of you. Just of our shitty lives.”

That elicited a faintly amused huff from Derek, though it was wry and all too knowing, as he leaned forward to press his nose to Stiles’ pulse in a comforting gesture. Bringing his arms up, Derek wrapped them around Stiles slowly enough for him to pull away.

He didn’t.

“God, we’re fucked up,” Stiles breathed again, safely ensconced in the familiarity of Derek body, his presence and warmth. “But then I look at our ragtag pack and I just think to myself, ‘Oh my God, we made it.’ And sometimes I’m so fucking angry at everything that I don’t know what to do.”

“But we are still here,” Derek said softly. Because, at the end of the day, it didn't matter how many times Stiles yelled at him, or how many times Scott's good heart put them all in danger. What mattered was how Derek and Stiles curled reassuringly around each other as the sun set and moon rose. 

“And we’re still breathing,” Stiles agreed, burying his face in Derek’s shoulder.


End file.
